The Chikage’s power

Francis needed a tactic of approach. He wasn't willing to attack the group blindly and die stupidly. Executioners were slow but they had armor and a strong defense. The women had no armor to speak of and were relatively weak.

In great numbers however, they are as deadly as facing an armored three headed giant dog. Kill one and the other will take its place and come fiercely attacking you. If his enemies could feel fear, he commended them for never backing down unless their numbers thinned and death was inevitable.

A big entrance to instill fear in his enemies' hearts was needed. He stood up and made for the assembled group. He was clutching his katana in his trembling hand. His feet were also shaking. Fear and excitement mixed in Francis' heart.

Fear, he learned, was the best teacher of all. He took only five blood vials with him. Facing such a great number with a little amount of blood vials was a handicap he was well aware of. He needed to push himself to the limit, beyond fear and doubt.

The closer he got to his destination, the calmer he got. He knew that the fight was inevitable at that point. He had eliminated doubt from his mind and there was no possibility for him to get back to his master with his tail between his legs.

He jumped across the wooden houses' roofs and reached one that faced the village's center. Everyone was facing the big fire, oblivious to his presence behind them. From where he stood, he saw two executioners standing behind the first row of women.

Despite being mindless beasts, they were organized in a military fashion. They stood in a circle and women were organized in different triangles within the circle. Francis had the impression that he was watching a sliced pie, ready for serving. The crust of the pie was composed of big executioners clad in black and covering their heads with executioners' hoods.

Francis jumped down and landed as silently as he could. No one managed to see him approach. In a flash he struck the two executioners on their feet, bringing them down to their knees and beheaded them.

When the women on the back row turned, they saw a hunter painted in red holding a red sword and running towards them. As they let out their screams and made to attack him, Francis stepped back and took two oil urns from his pocket and flung them towards the center.

Creating chaos within the ranks of his enemies was the first step to bringing them to despair. The oil urn cracked and exploded as they came in touch with the fire at the center, burning the women closer to it.

By the time the other executioners noticed him and the other women realized what was happening, he had killed at least ten. He threw two more oil urns that caused another deflagration and more chaos. Fire had caught on the clothes and transferred from one fleeing woman to the other. The big center was bloody and bright with fire already.

Francis was surrounded by enraged women and more were coming from behind. The executioners, in their rage and anticipation to reach him, swiped their huge axes around in order to clear a path for themselves. They killed their own allies and that was what Francis relied on. The first thing that arises after chaos was carnage and blood.

He danced around the hammers and sickles aimed at him. He sliced and decapitated. His body was covered in sweat and blood. Blood dropped from his head and in front of his eyes, covering his line of sight. He felt a hammer pummel him in the chest and he stumbled back a few feet while a sickle came down rushing towards his head.

He executed a pirouette and slashed his attacker's throat then jumped high enough to land behind the group of attackers that started to close in on him. Being surrounded by attackers swinging at him endlessly was exactly what he sought.

But he could at any moment tire or underestimate an attack's reach that would put an end to his little adventure prematurely. He saw the result of his carnage. Women on fire were running everywhere, shouting or rolling on the floor. Two executioners were closing in on him while swinging their axes left and right, causing other women to fly away from their way. He had two more oil urns but he had a different plan for them.

While the women turned around and came running at him, their numbers didn't seem to thin in the least. He could only see the heads of the other executioners running towards him while being drowned in between the other angry foes. He threw the two urns in opposite directions and as they cracked and poured their content of different random heads, he followed them with Molotov cocktails, igniting a new fire and drawing a line between him and the great number pursuing him.

The ones that were in front of that line still came at him. They were about a dozen. He disposed of them easily, dancing around their attacks, cutting limbs and heads as easily as cutting through butter.

At last three executioners managed to reach him and surrounded him. Women shouted behind them and fire had caught on many. The remaining executioners were fighting off their way, killing the women who also fought back. With a triumphant smirk on his face, Francis took stance and awaited his enemies' attacks.

He learned something from his master about his Chikage. If he were to injure himself with the weapon and inject it with his own blood, he could inflict blood damage to his enemies. This meant that they would be inflicted with poison that would eat away at their health even if he were to stop attacking them.

Surrounded by three hulking beasts, he wanted to put this ability to the test. He stabbed himself with the sword, coating it all in his blood as the three beasts attacked in unison. He jumped forward as the three great axes came crashing in the ground in one spot, the one where he stood a moment ago.

He cut one of the executioner's leg open, leaving a large injury from which blood kept rushing out. The three followed him quickly and as his closest enemy turned to punch him away, Francis jumped on top of his head and used it as a base to jump even higher. He landed behind the trio and with a swift and strong strike he cut a second executioner's leg clean.

He fell down backwards in a loud clinging sound, as his armor banged against the floor. Francis thrust his katana in the executioner's face, finishing him off. The third one, still intact came rushing at him while the injured one used his axe as support for his weight and huffed heavily. The poison really worked!